


Cutting Silver

by cryingoverspilledvodka, lucycamui



Series: The Lucyoverspilledvodka Collab Collection [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Post-Canon, Victor and Yuuri being Extra™ together at home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingoverspilledvodka/pseuds/cryingoverspilledvodka, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: After moving in together with Victor, Yuuri discovers not all the silver in his life is achievable.“Is that why you cut it?” Yuuri asked, looking up from the bottle to Victor. “The ends were so dead from years of bleach?”“It’s just a toner,” Victor defended, sounding unsure of himself.“Really?” Yuuri flipped the bottle over, studying the script printed across the label. “Because it looks like dye.”





	Cutting Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Absolute crack, brought to you all by ~~your favorite couple~~ lucyoverspilledvodka

Yuuri stood in the bathroom of Victor’s apartment—it still felt far too early to be comfortable dubbing it _their_ apartment—having a small existential crisis. Whatever he had been looking for or wanting to put away in the sink cabinet was utterly forgotten. His childhood hero, his first love, his eternal idol… a deception from the very beginning. 

The characters on the bottle were majorly Cyrillic, but there was really no mistaking the design and thus its purpose. 

“Yuuri, what are you—” Just as Yuuri had lost his train of thought, Victor lost his words the moment he saw what his fiancé was holding. 

“Is that why you cut it?” Yuuri asked, looking up from the bottle to Victor. “The ends were so dead from years of bleach?”

“It’s just a toner,” Victor defended, sounding unsure of himself. 

“Really?” Yuuri flipped the bottle over, studying the script printed across the label. “Because it looks like dye.”

As delicately as he could, Victor took the bottle from Yuuri’s hands and replaced it in the sink cabinet. “You don’t really think that I—”

“Color your hair?” Yuuri finished for him, eyes traveling suspiciously along Victor’s hairline. He made to touch the strands, then pulled his hand back at the last moment as if dejected. “I can’t believe this…” he muttered, brushing past Victor on his way to their living room. “My whole life, a lie. My fiancé, a liar. How can I achieve gold when even the silver in my life is unattainable?”

Yuuri flopped with resignation onto the couch, Makkachin hopping on top of him for company. 

Two sets of brown eyes judged Victor, who collapsed on the floor in front of Yuuri, grasping for his hands. "Yuuri, my darling, my angel, I swear I'm not lying. Come on, how could you think that? I'll throw it away right now.” He paused, thinking, “You can shower with me every day for a month to see that it's true."

Victor’s blue eyes shimmered with his pleading, but Yuuri’s thoughts traveled to Victor's grueling quad practice the previous day, leaving him completely unsympathetic. Instead, he turned his face away as dramatically as Victor taught him and sighed. “I don’t think we should shower together anymore, Victor. This is world-altering. I need time.”

Pout pushing out his lower lip, Victor sat back. Yuuri refused to turn back toward him. 

Pursing his mouth, Victor reached up, sweeping away his own bangs before tentatively running his fingers through his hair. "I'll prove it to you," he said, eyes trained on Yuuri, determination sprinting across his face. "I'll shave it off."

Victor expected Yuuri to break. Expected to receive that panicked little squeak which he adored, as Yuuri kicked Makkachin off the couch in his hurry to sit up and grasp onto Victor, expected to hear him command Victor not to touch his beautiful hair, expected the confession that Yuuri had only been knowingly joking.

Yuuri turned to face Victor again, face blank as he stated, “Okay then.”

A blink. A moment. Then another. Yuuri's brown eyes did not break from his, challenging and unyielding. 

Taking a deep breath while trying not to show it too much, Victor swallowed and pushed himself up off the floor, standing over Yuuri. 

His hands fisted against his side, but he would not be the one to break. "Okay then."

Yuuri watched Victor start to move, a very small sense of dread building in the pit of his stomach. “What are you doing?”

“Proving it to you.”

Victor vanished down the hall, towards the bathroom. For a moment, Yuuri did not move. He knew Victor wasn't going to shave his hair off. He knew that... right?

Yuuri dislodged Makkachin and followed Victor down the hall, into the bathroom, to see Victor on his knees searching through the lower cabinet. 

“Just looking for the clippers,” Victor said airily and Yuuri crossed his arms. No way Victor was actually going to go through with his threat… Then again, Victor had previously cut his trademark hair the night before an ISU competition, without telling anyone, all for the sake of a _surprise._

Victor hummed the tune to Stammi Vicino as he searched, taking his time. Yuuri saw him fumble with the clippers a little once they had been located, fidgeting with the settings. "You're gonna do it..." The exhale was an attempt at steady, betrayed by a hitch.

"I said I'll prove it to you, love. If you don't believe me." Victor rose and turned, clippers in hand. 

Yuuri's eyes met him. And did not back down. "Do it then."

Victor thumbed at the switch, turning the device on. The bathroom filled with the buzzing, vibrating off the tile, waiting for either of them to break.

When Yuuri still said nothing, Victor lifted up the clippers with a flourish. Checked the settings. Looked back up at Yuuri. Still nothing. He turned to face the mirror, running a hand through his hair, and raised the clippers.

Yuuri’s heart began to panic inside his chest. He could see Victor’s blue eyes challenging him in the reflection of the mirror, could see himself leaning against the door of the bathroom in the corner. Then Victor raised the clippers to the edge of his hair, just by his ear.

The buzzing grew deafening and the clippers met the ends of Victor’s undercut—

“Alright! Stop, stop!”

Except that Victor didn’t. Despite the protest, he ran the comb of the clippers through his hair in a long swooping motion, drawing out a terrified shriek from Yuuri. 

The very next second, Yuuri tore the clippers out of his hands, leaping to see the damage and—nothing.

Victor burst into laughter, all the more when Yuuri's comically wide-eyes continued to search his untouched hairline. 

"Wha—"

"I took the blade out," Victor said and held up the clippers for Yuuri to see. No blade. Victor’s hair remained intact. 

Yuuri very slowly reached his hands up, running his fingers through Victor's hair. Victor preened, just a little, leaning into Yuuri's touch. 

“You…” Yuuri started, voice soft and eyes slowly narrowing. He looked up at Victor through his lashes and Victor's heart picked up. He knew that look, anticipation bubbling up inside him.

“You tricked me,” Yuuri whispered, leaning up and brushing his lips against Victor's cheek. Victor's fringe caught between them, tickling. 

“Only a little,” Victor replied, waiting for Yuuri to kiss him properly.

Yuuri pulled back, looked at Victor's mouth with dark eyes, and his grip tightened in his Victor's hair. Then, Yuuri tugged. Hard. Victor's head tilted back, Yuuri's lips just hovering. 

“Ah—”

“Coward,” Yuuri said, before releasing Victor entirely and walked out of the bathroom, hips swaying as he did so.

“Yuuri— wait, what?” Victor stammered, abandoned in the bathroom. Quickly turning off the clippers, he bounced after Yuuri and back down the hall towards the living area. Yuuri was in the kitchen, making tea with the coolest expression Victor had ever seen on him.

“Yuuri?”

“And I thought you loved me,” Yuuri sighed heavily, in a manner most unlike him. “Should've known Victor Nikiforov would've loved his hair more than his dime a dozen fiancé.”

“Yuuri!” Victor whined, walking straight through the kitchen to wrap his arms around Yuuri's waist, resting his head on Yuuri's shoulder. “Don’t be like that, it was a joke!”

“Hmm,” Yuuri hummed, ignoring Victor. Victor tightened his grip, kissing Yuuri's neck. 

“Yuuri, please.”

“Hmph.” 

“Yuuri!” The whimper sounded excessive even to Victor’s own ears, but he could not bring himself to care.

Then Yuuri started to shake in Victor's arms. Panic flashed through Victor at the thought that Yuuri might be crying. He twisted so he could cup Yuuri’s face in his hands and rain down apologies, and then realized that Yuuri was laughing. 

“…You're teasing me.”

“Only a little,” Yuuri imitated, relishing Victor’s broken expression before leaning back, turning a bit to kiss at Victor's cheek. “You teased me first.”

"Does this mean you believe me?" Victor asked, more than relieved. The joke had been a little cruel. But that expression on Yuuri's face had been so worth it.

"Technically you still haven't proven anything," Yuuri reminded him, even as he touched another kiss to Victor's cheek.

A hum came from Victor and he tapped at his lips with a finger in consideration. "I've got some baby pictures," he offered and even in their current position of back to chest, he could see the glint in Yuuri's eyes. The one he's dubbed Yuuri's fanboy sparkle. 

He was proven to be right when Yuuri's voice trembled a bit at the start of his response. "O-oh? Well, if they're not in black and white."

"Keep talking and I won't show you all of them," Victor responded, kissing Yuuri's hair before bouncing off to find an old photo album probably crammed somewhere dusty.

"All the more proof that you really don't love me."

Victor whined all the way to the bookshelf.


End file.
